Prince of Hell
by Kariah Bengalii
Summary: When Castiel dragged Dean out of Hell, Dean wasn't exactly human anymore. His first order of business when he gets back out: getting his Sammy back from the bitch that took him and proving that Sammy belonged to him. Wincest, M for a reason.


**Author's Note: Well, I know it's been a long, long, long, long, **_**long **_**time since I've written anything. I apologize. I've been reading fanfics too obsessively to write and I started watching Supernatural. Which I love. So this is my first Supernatural fanfic. Also I think the second time that my porn has been somewhat decent. This is mostly porn. It contains a tiny bit of plot. You can probably guess what happens afterward, too. Though I'm open to possibly someday writing a sequel. We'll see. I have a lot of other plot bunnies swimming around. Also this fic involves forced voyeurism on the behalf of the participants. So yeah. Warning for that. I guess this would occur as a alternative version of 04x01. Anyway, happy reading!**

When Castiel, Angel of The Lord, dragged Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, out of Hell, he hadn't expected it to be without damage to his soul. He had not, however, anticipated the degree to which his time in Hell would have stained the soul, corrupted the man. Dean Winchester had spent far too long in Hell.

When Dean dragged himself from his grave, in the middle of nowhere, he was starving and extremely thirsty. He went to the nearest convenience store and took what he pleased. Before he left, he glanced in a mirror, after a moment, he grinned as his eyes became fully black. Dean Winchester was a demon. A horrendous noise followed him, but Dean just walked away.

Dean went to Bobby's. He may be a demon now, but surely Bobby wouldn't try anything on him, his son in all but blood. Besides, he didn't know where Sam was, and he had to find his Sammy.

At first, Bobby was absolutely shocked. Dean told him that he was fairly certain it had been an angel which had raised him from hell and put his soul back inside his body. Bobby called Sam, eager to share the good news. Sam said that he was leaving right that second and that he would be there as soon as he possibly could. In the meantime, he and Bobby went into Bobby's study to discuss things. He'd forgotten about the Devil's Traps which were drawn on the floor in many of the rooms, however, and inadvertently found himself caught in one.

Bobby went on red alert. "Get out of him you disgusting animal!" he demanded, though his insults may have been a bit off, unprepared as he was for Dean of all people to be possessed.

"Bobby, I'm not possessed," Dean said, though his eyes flicked to black unconsciously.

Bobby threw holy water on him and Dean hissed in distress. "Must you, Bobby? It's me, I swear."

"You're a demon!" Bobby growled in response, and then he started reciting a standard exorcism.

Dean braced himself for overwhelming pain and the return journey to Hell, but it never came. Bobby finished the whole exorcism and looked surprisedly at Dean, but Dean just laughed. "I've been tethered to my body by an angel. No exorcism can overcome that," he said as he pulled the collar of his shirt down to expose the anti-possession tattoo on his chest, still intact.

Bobby stared at him, in shock. Suddenly, Dean's mood, already bad enough from forty years in hell, took a dramatic turn for the worse. "I really ought to hurt you for this," he growled at Bobby, "and mark my words, soon as I'm free, I'm coming for you."

Bobby hurried from the room and went to phone nearby hunters that might be able to help him with a demon that couldn't be exercised, but no one was home. It wasn't that simple. Finally, he returned to his study and searched for exorcisms which were more intense, more powerful. He found nothing. And all the while he worked, Dean laughed. And that laugh, the way it sounded, was proof that Dean really was a demon.

"How?" he finally asked.

"You'll need to give me something more than that," said Dean, somewhat mockingly.

"How are you a demon? It takes hundreds of years. You've only been gone four months."

Dean grinned. "How about we save that until Sammy comes home, hey? I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know as well."

Bobby glared at him. "Now you listen to me, boy, you're gonna tell me or I'll..." he trailed off.

"You'll what, Bobby?" Dean mocked. "The only thing you can do to me is shoot me with the Colt, and I would LOVE to see how you try and explain that to Sammy. Plus, I'm fairly certain I would just get brought back. Angels aren't exactly known for their tendencies to break demons from Hell and stick them back into their own bodies, are they, Bobby? Or have I been away that long?"

Bobby growled out of frustration and stomped angrily out of the room.

Dean's mocking laughter followed him.

When Sammy finally arrived at Bobby's, it was to find Bobby in the kitchen, three empty bottles of whiskey in front of him, and Dean in Bobby's study, sitting cross-legged inside the Devil's Trap, his eyes closed.

"Bobby?" he asked first, confused as to why Dean should be in a demon trap. "What happened? What's up with Dean?"

Bobby looked at him wearily. "He says he's a demon, Sam."

To say Sam was shocked would have been an understatement. He felt like he couldn't breathe, his mind was blank, and he just stared at Bobby in incomprehension.

"Come on," said Bobby as he staggered out of the kitchen and toward his study, clutching his whiskey tightly.

"Bobby, back so soon?" Sam heard, and walked in to see Dean's head move up and his eyes snap open. They looked normal for a second, but then Dean looked at Sam and smiled and his eyes flashed to black. "Hello, Sammy. Long time, no see."

Bobby chugged a bit more whiskey from his bottle and growled, "So now that Sam is here, tell me how you're Dean and a demon when it takes hundreds of years to become a demon."

Dean laughed. "First," he said, "time passes different in Hell than it does here. Four months here is FORTY YEARS there."

"Oh my god," mumbled Sam under his breath, but both of the others heard him anyway. Bobby glanced at him sideways, and Dean smirked.

"Yeah," he said, with a touch of humor, "you could say it was Hell."

"Forty years," said Bobby, "that's still not enough. I ought to put a bullet in your head right this instant."

Dean simply grinned at him.

Sam put a hand on Bobby's shoulder and then asked Dean, "How? What else happened?"

Dean's grin turned a bit triumphant and he continued. "The second thing you need to know is that the strength of a demon and the amount of time it takes to turn a human soul into a demon is dependent on the strength of the Father."

"Leave your daddy outta this, boy!" Bobby yelled, enraged, but Sam's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Father?" he asked.

"Sire, Creator, the one that turned you. They're called the Father."

Sam nodded. "All right. So yours was... what? Extremely powerful?"

Dean laughed. "I guess you could say that. He's one of the oldest, most powerful demons in Hell. It should have only taken two hundred years from that alone."

"Still not good enough, boy!" Bobby said, shaking his fist, but Sam looked at him and said simply, "I want to hear this, Bobby. Save it." Then he turned to Dean, "What else?"

Dean leaned forward conspiratorially. "The strength of the demon and the amount of time it takes to turn the soul also depend on how often the Father takes an apprentice or an heir."

"They're different?" Sam asked, wanting to learn everything he could, because he was Sam and this was a topic he knew little about.

"An apprentice learns under the Father. They are taught what they need to know to survive. An heir learns everything the Father knows, not just what is necessary. He learns the Ancient Arts and Enochian and is meant to be BETTER than his Father, as opposed to just on par."

"Bullshit!" Bobby yelled, outraged. "I've never found any of this in any book! You're lying!"

Dean rolled his eyes at him. "Why would I lie? I'm only going to kill you when I get out of here anyway. I have no reason to fear you. I could hunt down every hunter in the world if I wanted to. In fact, that sounds like fun. I might. So go ahead and tell people, Bobby, and everyone you tell, and everyone they tell, will die by my hand. And, if you must know, the reason you don't know any of this is because everything written about it is in Enochian."

Before Bobby could butt in again, Sam asked, "What are the Ancient Arts? What is Enochian?"

"I do not feel comfortable talking about the Ancient Arts in front of HIM," said Dean, with a nod to Bobby, "but I'll tell you that Enochian is the language of the angels, and, thus, the Old Language of the demons. We were created by an angel, so we were created to understand their language. Most of today's demons above the surface don't speak it, but then, they've hardly had the opportunity to learn as I have."

Sam nodded understandingly. "Anything else?"

Dean grinned at him. "No, not much. That's how I'm a demon. The rest is, for the time being, unimportant. So now, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate being let out now."

"No!" Bobby yelled. "You're going to stay there until we can find a way to send you back to Hell!"

"Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam glanced at Bobby, bit his lip, and shook his head slightly.

"Sam," Dean tried again, voice like velvet. "We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way."

"The hard way?" Sam asked, gulping.

"I can smell her on you," Dean said evenly. "I assume Bobby doesn't know."

"What don't I know?" Bobby demanded.

"No," said Sam, looking pleadingly at him. "Besides, it's been weeks!"

Dean looked at his brother knowingly. "You're going through withdrawals."

Sam looked at his feet.

"I can help with that now, you know," Dean said.

Sam looked up at Dean in shock, his eyes resembling those of a deer in the headlights.

"Come on over, Sammy," said Dean, voice calm and persuasive, "take some. You're still my little brother, after all. I gotta help you, protect you. Guess this brings a whole new meaning to 'keeping it in the family', doesn't it?" He pulled a knife from his boot and slashed his arm quickly with it. "Come on, Sammy. It's okay, baby boy."

Sam stared hungrily at his arm as Dean held it out to him. "Dean?" he asked, questioning whether this was okay, whether he was really allowed to do this.

"It's okay, Sammy. I trust you and I love you and if you want this then I want you to have it," Dean said reassuringly.

Suddenly, Sam took a step forward into the Devil's Trap and grabbed Dean's arm to hold in his hands as he lifted it to his mouth and lapped at the blood that welled up.

This, Bobby had nothing to say to. He simply stared as Sam drank his brother-who had become a demon-'s blood.

Sam moaned at the taste of what he'd been craving for so long now. Dean's blood, though, tasted far better than Ruby's ever had, which was saying something because Ruby's blood had tasted like Heaven on earth.

"Oh, yes, Sammy!" Dean cried out. "Gonna remove her from your body. Make you from my blood, make you _crave_ my blood. Gonna make you _mine_, not hers. Because you already are, baby boy. She had no right, no right at all, taking what didn't and never could belong to her."

Sam moaned again at the things Dean was saying. "God, Dean!"

"I'm gonna make you mine, baby boy. I'm gonna fuck you, mark you, show everyone you're mine."

"Dean," Sam moaned again.

Dean pulled Sam's mouth from his arm and lifted the blade to his neck and made a shallow cut there, and Sam licked at it, trying to coax the blood out.

Dean pulled Sam's mouth away again and pulled it to his, reveling in the taste of his blood in his Sammy's mouth. "Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine," he growled in satisfaction against Sam's mouth, "always mine."

Sam moaned at the authority in Dean's voice. "Yours, Dean, yours," he agreed, pressing his mouth hard to Dean's.

"Get me outta here, Sammy," Dean said. "I'm gonna fuck you right over Bobby's desk, tie him up and make him watch, make him see that you're mine."

Sam moaned yet again and hissed, "Yes, Dean, yes."

Dean growled in lusty satisfaction and pushed Sam roughly away, handing him the knife. Sam took it and bent down to scratch away at the edge of the Devil's Trap. When it was gone, Dean hissed in pleasure and pulled Sam up from the ground hard. "Thank you, baby boy," he whispered into Sam's ear, biting affectionately at it since he was there.

Dean pulled away from Sam and lunged at Bobby. He grabbed him and wrestled him over to sit behind his desk. "Hold him," he said to Sam, and Sam went to hold Bobby in the chair while Dean went to find rope.

It wasn't all that hard to find, and Dean was back in no time. He tied Bobby to the chair, quickly and efficiently and ensured the bonds were secure.

"Sammy," he growled then, stalking toward his brother. "I'm gonna fuck you now." He stopped a few steps away and found himself pleased at how Sam sort of stumbled toward him in return until he landed firmly in Dean's arms.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam chanted.

Dean pulled him over to the desk and kissed him hard on the mouth again, stripping off both of their clothes rather quickly.

Dean found some oil in Bobby's study and sniffed at it. It would be safe, both for him and for Sam, his new demon senses told him.

Dean set the oil on the edge of the desk and grabbed Sam's arm to lead him around the desk until they were at Bobby's left, slightly behind him. He then nudged Sam toward the desk. "Climb on," he said.

Sam looked back at him for a second and then nodded and placed his left knee on the desk. He leaned forward automatically to balance out the weight of his right foot, and then leaned forward a bit more and quickly pulled his right leg up and over to Bobby's right side. He glanced back at Dean, confirming that he'd done right.

Dean grinned back, "Brilliant, Sammy, right where I wanted you."

A grin graced Sam's face and Dean pressed his face against Sam's left butt cheek. He groaned and enjoyed the shivers that wracked Sam's body from the tingling in such a sensitive place. Dean laughed and kissed it. He laid on the desk on his side on Sam's left and kissed his cheek. "I'm gonna fuck you now, Sammy," he said, "right here, on Bobby's desk, in Bobby's study, right in front of his face." Sam's only response was yet another moan.

Dean grinned and reached over Sam to retrieve the oil from where he'd placed it. He opened it and coated his fingers liberally in it before setting it back down on Sam's other side.

He then reached back and fluttered one finger over Sam's hole, which spasmed at the fleeting touch. "Like that, Sammy?" he asked, voice positively lecherous.

"Yes, Dean, God," he groaned.

Dean circled his finger around a few more times and then suddenly pushed it in to the first knuckle. Sam hissed in pain, and Dean brushed butterfly kisses all over his face to soothe him and make him relax. With a bit of resistance, Dean pushed his whole first finger in. He immediately started twisting and fucking him with it and Sam panted, eyes heavy with frustrated pleasure. "Dean," he groaned in protest at the teasing.

"Gotta prep you, baby boy," Dean teased. "Wouldn't ever want to hurt you."

He chanced a look back at Bobby and grinned in satisfaction that Bobby was staring in transfixed horror at Dean's finger as it pushed in and out of Sam's ass.

Without warning, Dean pressed a second finger in. Sam grunted in surprised pain, but a moan came right on the end of it as Dean's fingers brushed over his prostate. Dean scissored his fingers to stretch Sammy further and licked over his whole body, softening the whole affair.

When he thought Sammy was ready, Dean pressed a third finger into him, prompting a long, drawn-out moan from him. "Someday," he said, "I'm gonna keep going, gonna make you take four fingers, five, and then my whole fist. I'm gonna stretch you so big and fuck you with it. I'm gonna be sitting down and you're just gonna come over and sit down and work my fingers in you one by one until you get my whole fist in you and then you're gonna ride my hand until you come. What do you think?"

Sam moaned, "Yes, Dean, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Dean, yes."

Dean grinned and finally pulled his fingers out, leaving Sam's hole open and stretched in Bobby's face. "What do you want, Sammy?" he asked.

"Please, please, please, please, please fuck me, Dean. Please," Sam begged.

"We're brothers, Sammy," Dean pointed out, an eyebrow raised.

"So? I want you to fuck me Dean! I want my big brother to fuck me!"

When Sam's cried turned demanding Dean grinned and said, "All right, Sammy." He pressed himself up on his left arm and leg and swung his right arm and leg over Sam like he was mounting a horse. He slid back a little and positioned his cock right at Sam's hole. He pressed Sam's shoulders down until Sam looked like a dog asking another dog to play and then leaned right down on top of them, fully exposing them to Bobby's gaze. Without any further delay, he pushed in in one solid thrust, and both he and Sam groaned in appreciation. Dean didn't move right away, waiting for Sammy to relax.

"Move," Sam grunted, and Dean took the demand for permission and started fucking Sam with shallow thrusts.

"Harder!" Sam demanded again and Dean laughed but obeyed. "Pushy in bed, aren't you, Sammy?"

Sam groaned and tried to hide his face, presumably out of embarrassment at demanding such things, from his older brother no less, but he started rocking himself back into Dean's thrusts. Dean grinned and moaned in approval.

He started really fucking Sammy then, canting his hips as he thrusted to hit Sammy's prostate every time. It wasn't long until Sam clenched beneath him and came, ribbons of come shooting all over Bobby's desk, and his asshole reflexively tightening, making Dean come inside him, painting his insides white with his come.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean said, pulling out. He crawled across the desk and around to the front to climb down to the floor and kiss Sam hard on the mouth. "Mine!"

Sam moaned into his mouth, and Dean kissed him until they both became aroused again. He then pressed Sammy up to his knees and lay down in front of him on his back so that his head was by his Sammy's crotch. He pulled Sam back down and slid up a few more inches. Without warning, he lunged up and swallowed Sammy's cock, letting Bobby see as Dean's come ran out of Sam's hole and Sam fucked Dean's mouth.

Sam moaned loudly and thrusted down a few times and then leaned over and started sucking on Dean's cock like it was a lollipop. Dean moaned, and the vibrations of it made Sam moan in response and it wasn't long until they were both coming again.

Sam pulled off of Dean after they both came and Dean sat up and pulled Sammy with him from the desk. He pulled Sammy, his Sammy, away from Bobby and over to the corner of the room, and then he took the blade which rested in their pile of clothes and quickly slashed Bobby's throat, suspecting that Sam wasn't ready to see him drag things out and have fun with his victims yet.

Dean grabbed his body and carried him outside where he dug him a grave and buried him. Next, he cleaned up the blood and threw out the food that had remained in the fridge, and scratched the edges of every Devil's Trap so that he could pass through them unharmed. He asked that Sammy pack their things and went around sealing all the windows with very strong demonic magic.

When Sam was ready, he took their bags outside to the Impala and watched with fascination as Dean finished sealing the doors. Dean then turned and walked over to him and got into the driver's seat.

"You know what I'm going to do now, right?" Dean asked.

"You're gonna kill Ruby," Sam replied, seemingly having no hang-ups about it.

"Yes. Do you know why?"

"Because she touched me and I belong to you, forever and always," Sam replied, happily.

"Yes," said Dean. "Because you're mine and I love you and she can't have you."

"I love you, too, Dean," said Sammy.

"And normally I wouldn't be able to break her bond with you," said Dean, "because demons have some nasty shit up their sleeves to bind humans to them, but I'm the Prince of Hell."

Sam grinned at him, "My Demon Prince."


End file.
